


Avoiding Treatment

by Thevoidbetweenus



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, descriptions of how the serial killer attacks trapper, somewhat typical angsty fluff, there's blood, trapper shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: The doctor finds the trapper in need of assistance.  She gets a lot more than she's bargained for: a run in with the lovely serial killer, and a very non-compliant patient.  Much to her chagrin.The trapper has an odd way of showing appreciation for his life being saved.  Otherwise known as he's an ungrateful bastard, apparently.





	1. 7 Times

Holly walks up to the door of a man she’s never visited before – Raskolnikov...well, that’s all anyone knows him as. If that’s his first name or last name, she doesn’t know. What Holly does know is the door is already open, which is generally not a good sign. She steps into the room, standing on her tip toes. Ah – the scent of iron. It’s a good thing she’s here. The foyer was empty, but upon entering the living room she found her target. She sets her medical bag down and walks closer. 

The trapper is on his hands and knees, attempting to crawl towards what Holly thinks is the kitchen. Blood is pooled around him, his long coat ripped in the back from the stab wound. She thinks there’s more than one, judging from the blood leaking down his chin. He’s still wearing his boots – he must have been ambushed right as he got home. He looks up at her with wide, brown eyes. She’s never really bothered to look before. 

“Holly?” 

This is the first time she’s heard him speak. “Mr. Raskolnikov, I’m a doctor. I’ll help you.” 

With a shaky hand, he lifts a finger up to his blood stained lips. “Sh...he’s still here,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “Kitchen...traps...” He squeezes his eyes shut, giving up on moving and collapsing onto his stomach. 

Holly hears a thump upstairs. Ah...that’s where the attacker is. She grimaces – she really shouldn’t leave Raskolnikov alone but she can’t heal him when the killer could easily re-do the damage and likely injure her as well. “I’ll be back, I promise. Just try to stay awake,” she murmurs, then she tiptoes to the kitchen. 

Now...how to lure the killer down here...she sees the tripwire that Raskolnikov has set up, and carefully tiptoes around it. She rummages through the counters for a glass, then she throws it onto the ground. It shatters into hundreds of pieces, and then she is met with silence. Perfect. 

The stairs creak under the weight of the killer. He peers into the kitchen, revealing his identity at last. 

Lane. 

Holly feels his gaze and she swallows. His shirt and his face are both stained with blood, his eyes are twitching a bit – he's happy to find another victim, based on that awful smile. It’s nerve wracking, despite her plan. 

“Hello there, Holly. I didn’t realize you were the doctor. I’m glad you came before I left – I can offer you the same welcome that I did dear Raskolnikov.” The killer’s grin only widens, though it does not quite reach his eyes. He’s still holding the knife stained with the trapper’s blood. 

With each step he takes, he gets closer to her – and the trip wire. “Lane...I should've known it was you, I suppose.” She has to keep him distracted. “How many times did you stab him? I don’t know if I could have saved him anyways.” 

“Seven. His screams were fun. I’ve hardly ever heard him talk, but he’s quite vocal when in pain.” Lane chuckles and lifts the knife to lick some blood off the side. Holly supposes he’s trying to be creepy, but all she can think of is how unhygienic it is. 

“That’s really unsafe you know,” she comments. “What if he’s got some blood-borne illness, or-” 

“I highly doubt he’s got one. Have you ever even seen him outside?” he chuckles, mostly to himself. “Besides - I enjoy making people squirm, even if it’s not the usual type of squirming I get.” 

Holly backs up a step, forcing the killer to keep walking. Just a little bit further, and - 

Lane is hanging upside-down from the ceiling by his ankles, screaming loudly. The screams turn to threats but the doctor just scrambles out of the kitchen, leaving the shattered glass and the furious killer. Raskolnikov is laying on the ground still, his eyes glazed over, but he’s still breathing. Holly grunts as she pushes him over onto his back, shaking his shoulders. “Mr. Raskolnikov, stay awake. I’m going to help you, don’t worry.” 

“Andrei.” 

“What?” 

“I’m Andrei.” Raskolnikov’s voice is soft, but his cough is guttural and wet as she feels a drop of blood hit her chin. He’s dying. “For the headstone...” he mutters. “...Andrei Raskolnikov.” 

“Don’t talk like that, Andrei. You’re going to live. I swear it.” 

As he looks up into her eyes – oh, they’re green, so beautiful, and some of her auburn hair is hanging in her face – he smiles weakly. “Sure,” he agrees, willing to play along. 

Holly’s brow crinkles in determination. Time to get to work.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrei and Holly have a discussion, and Holly starts to understand his issues.

Andrei grimaces as he sits up, somewhat surprised to find himself nicely tucked into bed and under an approximate mountain of blankets. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and glances around – nothing is out of the ordinary, besides perhaps the glass of water on the bed stand. Now that he sees it, he’s parched. 

It’s nice and cool against his throat, which is rather raw for some reason. He tilts his head a bit – why is he so sore, anyway? 

One more glance around, and he sees his bloody shirt and coat from last night. Ah yes...Lane attacked him last night. He shudders at even a brief flash of memory – no, no. Don’t think about what happened. There are more pressing things to worry about at the moment. 

“How are you feeling, Mr. Raskolnikov?” Holly chooses this moment to enter, conveniently enough. She approaches, then gently pushes on his shoulders to force him back down. “You really shouldn’t sit up yet, you could tear your stitches or something.” 

The doctor had saved him, for some reason or another. That’s something to pondere for sure. Why? Why waste her time with the trapper? 

It’s not like he’s done much, after all. He’s never even spoken at a meeting. 

“I’m fine, Holly. And really, no need for formalities,” he shrugs her off then sits up again. Sure, it hurt, but how else would he get better? A little pain once in awhile is a good thing. 

“Andrei...” Holly frowns and she reaches over to push him down once more. “You need to heal, okay? I’m not going to take no for an answer.” His eyes are hollow – she's not a fool, she knows he needs more than physical healing. 

He averts his gaze, crossing his arms. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbles, a bit hard for her to understand with the thick Russian accent. 

“Oh, really? Would you be fine if I hadn’t come around last night?” 

The trapper glares up at her for a moment, his lips forming a pout, before he turns onto his side and faces away from her. “No, but you’d have all been better off anyway.” 

Holly frowns. That’s what she suspected. “You know that’s not true. At the very least, you’re a vote for the town. And you helped us catch the serial killer!” 

“Because he tried to kill me. I wish he would’ve just finished the job.” 

The doctor pinches the bridge of her nose. This isn’t going to be easy. “Do you want something to eat?” she asks. 

“Nyet.” 

“...You must be hungry, I doubt you’ve eaten since yesterday morning and it’s 5 in the afternoon.” 

“I want nothing.” 

“Fine, fine. But I’m coming back later with some soup for you, and you’re going to eat it.” 

Andrei glances over his shoulder at her, wanting to protest. Her stern expression silences him, the words dying in his throat. 

“Good. Continue to rest, and I’ll be back in a few hours. I need to tend to my duties for a bit.” She leans down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, then exits the room. His cheeks heat up a little bit and he watches her leave.


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrei attempts to move on.

Andrei gingerly sits up once more, then takes another sip of water. He’s left quite confused.

 _Maybe she cares about you_ , he thinks, but the more realistic (or perhaps cynical) part of him squashes that quickly. No way. That would be ridiculous.

He stands, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest and stomach, and approaches his dresser. Holly had taken off his necklace, the cross of the Russian Orthodox church, and cleaned the blood from it. He picks it up and puts it on once more, the cool metal feeling pleasant against his flushed skin.

He shivers a little as he pulls on a sweatshirt then tentatively leaves his bedroom. He pads down the stairs, staring into the living room.

There has clearly been an effort to clean, but deep rust stains remain in the carpet where he was dragged and from where he crawled.

_Lane laughs in delight as he watches Andrei attempting to get away, crawling on his hands and knees as if he truly has hope of escaping. The killer walks slowly, tantalizingly so, lifting his knife. The trapper has only suffered one itty bitty stab so far, and that’s not nearly enough. Oh no._

_“Where are you going, darling?” he coos, lifting a leg to step on Andrei’s back, forcing him down onto the ground. ”We’re not done yet, you know...there’s plenty of fun left to be had.” He drives his knife into his victim’s upper back, not stopping until he felt the blade hit the floor. “So skinny, so frail...someone hasn’t been eating enough! That’s okay, it makes this so much easier.”_

_Andrei screams in agony, his fingers curling and weakly grasping at the floorboards. Lane’s smile widens. “Your voice is so pretty, you know...I’ve always wanted to hear you – I never knew you could sing like this! Let’s play together some more.”_

The trapper feels his heart pounding in his chest and he scurries back up the stairs, the memories of the previous night overwhelming. He goes to the bathroom, shutting the door and stripping out of his clothing. He turns the shower on, stepping into the searing water and inhaling the hot steam. He wants to scrub away the blood caked on his skin and hopefully the memories.

_“You know, I’m sure the rest of the town will be glad you’re dead,” Lane comments as he twirls the knife in his hand, pondering what to do next. He’s kneeling on top of the trapper, paying no mind to the blood now staining his shirt and jeans. Andrei is wheezing underneath him, blood dripping down his chin and his eyes wide with pain. “You never really talk, after all. And you don’t contribute anything. You’re a waste of space, Raskolnikov...” the killer leans down and he kisses the other man’s neck as he drives the knife into his thigh, eliciting another sharp scream. “But so pretty. I’m so sad you didn’t accept my date invitation, but this is fun too.”_

_Tears prick at the corner of Andrei’s eyes and he shudders uncomfortably at the unsolicited contact. “Get off of me, you creep. Your words mean nothing.”_

_“Aw....how cute,” the killer purrs. “Well, you and I both know you don’t really mean that.” He smiles and he forces a kiss on the lips, twisting the knife in Andrei’s thigh._

Andrei scrubs his skin until it’s raw, closing his eyes and sniffling. He hardly notices how much time passes.


End file.
